09-04-2012, 12:41 AM
[html]
[/html]The hyena's dark eyes followed the wolf's motions as he drew curiously closer. Certain signs remained universal among most living things. Slow movements and straightforward answers put the hyena's mind at ease, even as it paused to yank another quill from its chest before answering.
The African knew precious little of wolves, having gleaned the knowledge from the friendly ones aboard the vessel set for this strange land. They were not jackals and possessed considerably more bulk. "Wolves are large jackals," however, was needlessly reductionist and moreover harmful, and despite the strong temptation to do so, Shylome suppressed the idea, especially since wolves had intervened in a situation that would have ended in a slow and horrifying death.
The mention of the word "pack" brought a fleeting tension. "Pack"... Jackals lived in those. Proper creatures lived in a clan, and--
"My name is Shylome," the hyena broke through the destructive thoughts a little too suddenly, accidentally spitting the bloodied quill.
It stood to its feet out of amicable reflex. Back home, this would be the part where they would jam their noses into each other's groins, but the jackals back home did not greet each other that way, the wolves on the ship did not greet each other that way, and the newcomer could not help but conclude that it was not the proper procedure in this case and just stood politely.
As for the question, "What am I?" the hyena lacked a proper answer. The Clan contained a shockingly insular culture. Nothing liked hyenas, therefore hyenas were "souls" and almost everyone else was unilaterally a "thing" or worse. Persecution produced that.
But hyenas did not exist here, and hyenas did not exist at home anymore either as far as Shylome was concerned. Clans are important, and forming social bonds to fall back on when the hard times came was a priority, at least for survival in this new place.
"What am I?" The repetition was ponderous and slow. "Well, if you call things by their names, then you have power over them. Is it not the same in this land, Mevrou? I will tell you this. See my teeth?" The hyena grinned for a moment in demonstration. "They are the same as yours." They were piled up atop one another in the back and for cracking dead thing's bones. "See my ears?" One was pawed for demonstration. "They are the same as yours." They were round like a bear's and not that similar to his at all other than their purpose. "I have four paws," the beast held one up for examination. It was broad, hairless on the bottom, and strangely webbed. God knows why. "I have a tail, like you." The aforementioned, curly pom-pom. "You are only missing spots," and without spots, how did they ever tell each other apart? Well, they came in different colors. Like clouds. Very strange. "Are we really so different that we need to be different whats? Come now. We're practically relatives." The hyena held up its head jauntily, cackling for a moment nervously. "Whatever you are, I am."[html][/html]
[/html]The hyena's dark eyes followed the wolf's motions as he drew curiously closer. Certain signs remained universal among most living things. Slow movements and straightforward answers put the hyena's mind at ease, even as it paused to yank another quill from its chest before answering.The African knew precious little of wolves, having gleaned the knowledge from the friendly ones aboard the vessel set for this strange land. They were not jackals and possessed considerably more bulk. "Wolves are large jackals," however, was needlessly reductionist and moreover harmful, and despite the strong temptation to do so, Shylome suppressed the idea, especially since wolves had intervened in a situation that would have ended in a slow and horrifying death.
The mention of the word "pack" brought a fleeting tension. "Pack"... Jackals lived in those. Proper creatures lived in a clan, and--
"My name is Shylome," the hyena broke through the destructive thoughts a little too suddenly, accidentally spitting the bloodied quill.
It stood to its feet out of amicable reflex. Back home, this would be the part where they would jam their noses into each other's groins, but the jackals back home did not greet each other that way, the wolves on the ship did not greet each other that way, and the newcomer could not help but conclude that it was not the proper procedure in this case and just stood politely.
As for the question, "What am I?" the hyena lacked a proper answer. The Clan contained a shockingly insular culture. Nothing liked hyenas, therefore hyenas were "souls" and almost everyone else was unilaterally a "thing" or worse. Persecution produced that.
But hyenas did not exist here, and hyenas did not exist at home anymore either as far as Shylome was concerned. Clans are important, and forming social bonds to fall back on when the hard times came was a priority, at least for survival in this new place.
"What am I?" The repetition was ponderous and slow. "Well, if you call things by their names, then you have power over them. Is it not the same in this land, Mevrou? I will tell you this. See my teeth?" The hyena grinned for a moment in demonstration. "They are the same as yours." They were piled up atop one another in the back and for cracking dead thing's bones. "See my ears?" One was pawed for demonstration. "They are the same as yours." They were round like a bear's and not that similar to his at all other than their purpose. "I have four paws," the beast held one up for examination. It was broad, hairless on the bottom, and strangely webbed. God knows why. "I have a tail, like you." The aforementioned, curly pom-pom. "You are only missing spots," and without spots, how did they ever tell each other apart? Well, they came in different colors. Like clouds. Very strange. "Are we really so different that we need to be different whats? Come now. We're practically relatives." The hyena held up its head jauntily, cackling for a moment nervously. "Whatever you are, I am."[html]